


Feel The Magic

by Rosella_Burgundy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas Decorations, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Smut, F/M, Snowed In, Strictly Dramione's Yuletide Magic 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 23:39:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17069399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosella_Burgundy/pseuds/Rosella_Burgundy
Summary: Hermione gave up her magic. Harry blackmails Draco into helping him bring Hermione back into the Wizarding World. Will Draco succeed?***“Did he get you on his mission to bring me back too? What does he have on you?” she asked with a little scoff, her fingers travelled to her hair to fidget with her locks.He nodded while chewing on another piece of biscuit. He magically poured some tea before he spoke, “He’s got stuff that could cost me a life in Azkaban.”“Doesn’t the Wizengamot already have all that? Have you ever paid for your actions during the war?” Hermione picked up her tea and gave Malfoy a little grin.





	Feel The Magic

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Strictly Dramione for giving us yet another magical fest!  
> My endless gratitude to my friend RooOJoy for being my second set of eyes and making my writing better. All errors that are left are my own!  
> Prompts: 1) Trapped by a snowstorm; 2) Draco uses magic to create the ultimate winter wonderland for Hermione.  
> I hope I made these prompts justice!  
> JK Rowling owns everything, I'm just playing in her wonderful world.

****

 

**Feel The Magic**

* * *

 

 

 

With a sharp inhale through his nose, Auror Potter lightly tapped his knuckles on the red mahogany door before him.

Nothing happened.

After rubbing a hand through his messy hair, Harry knocked again. This time with force. He shifted uncomfortably from one leg to the other. He was hesitant about resorting to certain low means, but the person on the other side of the door was his best, and last, chance to get what he wanted.

The door cracked open. A grey eye peered through the slit, squinting as soon as the light hit it. A hoarse, sleep heavy voice came through. “Potter? Don’t you have any manners? You woke me up...”

Harry quirked an eyebrow. “It’s two in the afternoon, Malfoy. May I come in?”

With a grunt and some huffing, the wizard inside stepped aside, letting Harry in.

The flat appeared chaotic. It seemed as though a herd of centaurs galloped through it. Clothing - mostly suits and dress shoes - lay abandoned on the wooden floor and sofas. Empty bottles of expensive liquor cluttered the tops of every piece of furniture; there were no glasses - Malfoy probably didn’t bother using them, drinking right from the source. Bandages and vials full of healing potions occupied a large dragon hyde trunk suitcase.

Malfoy was standing next to the door, running his fingers through hair that rivalled Harry’s in unkemptness. His wand was lowered to his side but held firmly between his fingers. The Auror’s trained eye could tell that Draco had been aiming it at him when he first answered the knocking.

With pursed lips, Harry observed his former school rival and bully. The wizard was wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants, the Slytherin crest displayed on one leg. His chest and stomach bore cuts and bruises. His face and arms were in no better shape. The Auror could tell that Malfoy had already tried to heal his most recent bruises and cuts by the faint yellow blotches under his eyes and above his mouth.

Draco’s jaw clenched as he moved to the centre of the sitting room where there were two red leather couches opposite of each other, a crystal top table between them. After a flick of his wand sent some clothing flying into the air, Malfoy sank into one of the sofas. With a grunt of pain, he sprawled himself out, leaving a leg hanging off the side and covering his eyes with one arm.

The Auror took a seat on the opposite sofa and addressed his rude host. “You look rough.”

“Coming from the scar headed boy…what do you want?” Draco quipped with a sneer on his lips.

“Don’t be snarky with me. Did you have a particularly difficult round at the duelling club last night?” Harry asked with a wolfish grin.

Suddenly interested, Draco moved his arm from his face and stared at Harry with a smirk. After two breaths he spoke, “What duelling club? They are illegal now, you should know…and if you came here to fish, I don’t have time for you.”

“Trust me, I would like to spend my time differently as well, but I need your help,” Harry stated with a slight grimace. He desperately wished that there was another way, but this was his last resort.

The blond wizard sat up, beaming at Harry. “The saviour of the wizarding world needs help from a reformed Death Eater? I told you from the start that I’m the kind of person you want as a friend.”

Harry sighed heavily, taking his glasses off and inspecting them for any dirt. “Malfoy, we are not eleven anymore, you should let go of the fact that I don’t want to be friends with a tosser like you.” Slipping his glasses back on his head and pushing them up his nose again, he searched the inside pocket of his cloak and extracted a piece of parchment. He perused it once, and then placed it on the table. His green eyes met the face of the man before him and with a worried look on his face, he let out what he had come to say, “Hermione made a rushed decision.”

Draco’s eyebrows shot up as he blinked in confusion.

Harry straightened his back before he explained, “She gave up her magic. She renounced her power.”

Malfoys lips twitched twice before he broke into a full belly laugh. “So?” he managed to ask while his mirth slowly died down.

Harry started rambling, “She decided to step away from our world. She broke down and went into the Muggle world not long after the war. I let it happen at first, thinking it might help her heal and that she would come back, but no, she isolated herself. She refuses to talk to any magical person. She’s alone, her parents-”

Draco rose a hand to interrupt him, his face contorted in a grimace. “Whoa, whoa. You are giving me a headache. Again, Potter...so? What does it have to do with me?”

“Every person that loves her has tried to talk to her, but they all received a door in their face. I thought that perhaps an old enemy might succeed in changing her mind. I want you to talk to her,” Harry almost begged him.

Draco summoned a packet of cigarettes and lit one. He took a long drag and then exhaled the smoke while talking, “Why would I care what Granger does with her magic? As far as you know, I’m utterly thrilled that a Muggleborn went back to live with the Muggles.”

Harry smiled. “As far as I know, you don’t think that. Your charity work and your help in the rebuilding after the war tell me otherwise.”

“I still don’t give a shite about Granger,” Draco quickly clipped. He was eager to make a point of it; perhaps a little too rapidly, Harry thought. “I also doubt that she would listen to me,” Draco finished. He continued smoking his cigarette, flicking the ash carelessly onto the sofa. Once his smoke was burnt out, Draco stretched his back while rubbing his ribs in pain. He put out the fag with a wand flick while his grey irises met Harry’s green eyes. “I must admit, what she did proves that she is the smartest witch of our age. She’s better off without your suicidal ways.” He took another cigarette from the pack and spun it between his fingers without lighting it.

Harry’s eyes narrowed before he spoke, “I was hoping to avoid this but…” His Auror interrogation and criminal persuasion techniques kicked in. “Either you help, or your illegal duelling club in Knockturn is destined to be short-lived. So is your life out of prison.”

Malfoys eyebrows flickered, a furrow forming on his forehead, followed by a smirkingly crooked smile, one corner of his lips slightly higher than the other. “Blackmailing, Auror Potter? The knight of the Light side has gone bad. I’m impressed.”

Harry shrugged while using his index finger to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He wanted his best friend back, and he was prepared to do anything in order to achieve that. He tapped his finger on the piece of parchment on the table. “This is her last known address. Bring her back, and the very thick folder about the duelling venue that Aurors have at the Department will magically disappear.”

“You are bluffing. Aurors have nothing on me,” Draco confidently stated. With a shrug, he stood up and approached the door with obvious intent to show Harry out. “Don’t even pretend you have anything on me. I know this because-”

“Because Auror Nott is your inside man...I know. Theo and I had lunch some time ago, I might have spiked his drink with Veritaserum.” Harry also stood, snickering.

“Bollocks,” Draco shouted and he began pacing the sitting room, evaluating his scant options. He then stopped, looked directly into Harry’s eyes, and made an offer. “I’ll talk to her then I’m clean.”

With a triumphant smile, Harry extended a hand. “Convince her to return, and it all goes away. You’re not in any position to negotiate the deal.”

Draco’s eyes darted back and forth between Harry’s offered hand and his eyes. “You Macchiavellic bastard. You could pass for a Slytherin.” He let out a slow breath before continuing, “I want everything on parchment and sent to my attorney.”

“I would have made Salazar proud. The Sorting Hat thought so too.” Harry sniggered. “You have until the end of the year.”

Malfoy extended his pale arm and with a strong grip, he shook the Aurors hand.

 

↜☃☃↝

 

Hermione’s hate for Christmas was reaching dangerous levels. She growled at the radio while switching stations again and again in order to escape the incessant Christmas carols. The jolly tunes were just infuriating earworms to her.

The traffic light turned green. She stepped on the gas, only to be forced to brake again shortly after due to a moronic pedestrian who had crossed the road without looking to their right first.

Damned tourists.

The week before Christmas, London was a madhouse full of people running their last errands. Last minute gifts, late grocery shopping, and happy strolls through the park were getting on Hermione’s nerves. People seemed to forget how to drive during Christmas. Everyone was too busy glancing at storefronts to pay attention to the road.

The snow was the worst. Humanity, somehow, couldn’t figure out how to exist in the snow. Everybody walked about with sparkling eyes, gazing toward the sky and paying no attention to their surroundings. Moreover, the flakes made Hermione’s hair fizz up and unmanageable.

At the next intersection, the familiar and irritating jingle of another holiday song pushed her to swear. Christmas was just an annoyance. It was the time of the year when people lost their brains. After finally switching the stereo to CD input, she started shuffling through songs.

She used to love the Holidays, but then Godric’s Hollow happened and another Christmas without her family followed. She was done. She couldn’t feel the Christmas magic anymore. She couldn’t feel any magic at all, for that matter. A little smile pulled her lips up when she finally heard the first notes of the song that she had been looking for. _Fuck you, an ode to no one_ by the Smashing Pumpkins. It was her tune lately.

As Hermione pulled into the parking lot beside her residence hall at the University she was attending, a small twitchy owl swooped down and landed on the hood of her car. A letter attached to its leg. She would recognize that bird everywhere. Pigwidgeon. It was probably Molly, inviting her to the Weasley’s Christmas dinner like every year.

Hermione listened to the song, singing along and ignoring Pig.

_You can't bring me back, you can't bring me back_  
_'Cause I gave it all back to you_  
_Through sacred alleys, the living wrecks_  
_Wreak their havoc upon this world_  
_The disenchanted, the romantics_  
_The body and face and soul of you is gone down that deep black hole._  


With the car still running, she stepped on the clutch, put it in reverse, and left. The owl took off with a scared screech.

Time to go out of the city.

Hermione drove for hours until she was deep into the countryside. She found a little town and after asking information about propriety rentals, she chose a small cabin deep in the woods where she planned to spend the Holidays undisturbed.

The best thing about her cottage was the lack of Christmas decorations. It was cosy and warm, built entirely with wood. As the daylight started dying out, Hermione found herself in front of a roaring fire with a hot cup of tea in her hands, enjoying the quiet night on the sofa.

The wind was howling outside when the first snowflakes started to fall. Hermione set the cup on the side table next to the couch and approached the window. Everything was silent for a moment as the wind had died down, and Hermione smiled at the stillness of nature, the spiralling descent of the snow the only movement.

Relishing in that peace, she walked to her bed and opened a novel book. Soon sleep took over.

With a stretch and a yawn, Hermione rose with the first lights of the day; the sun was hidden behind the thick clouds that were still crying white snow. She had some essays to write so she started a kettle for tea, and turned on the PC that was set up in the little office next to the front door.

Books scattered on the desk, she began her research. She had enrolled in dentistry medical school, and that semester, they were finally tackling some interesting subjects. With the hope to make her parents proud if they ever remembered her, she had worked hard on her grades in college and, even when her faith to have them back had died, she continued the pursuit of a medical carrier as she had found that it was her vocation.

While she was in the middle of her work, the air around her shifted and crackled.

It was magic.

Hermione recognized it right away even if she had tried her best to forget the feeling. If she had to be totally honest with herself, she knew she would never be able to repress her nature, but she had become very skilled in ignoring the sensation. She could feel her core tightening, pulled by the magical wrenching of the Apparition Spell that just brought someone outside her cabin.

That someone knocked on her door.

She didn’t bother getting up from her chair, wishing that whoever came would just leave her alone, her fingers nervously playing with her loose curls. Unfortunately, as she started typing again, her peripheral vision detected a movement in the window. Hermione's heart sunk in her stomach when she recognized the tall wizard.

Draco Malfoy was smirking at her, pointing sideways with his thumb, towards the front door. “Let me out of this damn snow storm!” His voice came muffled by the glass pane.

Hermione gave him her two fingers, returning to her essay. She was not going to deal with her past, and he was one of the worst parts of it.

“As you wish, Granger.” Malfoy moved his wand elegantly, and the window slammed open.

Shaken to the core by the frozen air, she stood up and launched to close the window, but the wizard hit her with a Full-Body-Bind Spell right to her chest. Her eyes followed him while he climbed inside and shut the window, stopping the large snowflakes from entering the office.

Malfoy observed her for a moment, a crooked grin on his lips, and then he approached the PC, his eyes narrowing and widening while he read her detailed essay on the root canal procedure.

He browsed through her books and then, his grey eyes met hers. With an amused smirk, and absentmindedly pointing at the desk, he said, “Whatever this is, it’s revolting.”

As she felt the spell wearing off, her muscles softened, and she could finally yell at him, “How dare you break in here, piss off!” Hermione was furious but didn’t dare approach him. She still couldn’t believe he was there. She had expected Harry or Ginny, but not Malfoy. An explanation was nudging at the back of her head, but she couldn’t quite grasp it, yet.

Draco tilted his head, his eyebrow flickered as he lifted his wand for her to see, daring her, he hissed, “Make me.” He returned to her desk then and kept reading her school material, lip curled up in disgust, “Teeth, Granger? And what in Salazar’s name is this thing?” he asked while his gloved hands picked up a heavy tome and pointed at a picture.

Her legs finally moved towards him, and she snatched her book out of his hands. “This is called orthodontic and it is a device to move teeth or adjust the underlying bone. Why are you here Malfoy?”

His eyes darted to hers; his tongue swiped over his teeth once. “I need my teeth fixed. Lately, they chip quite often,” he said with a chuckle. Then, he laughed at something that she didn't understand, walking away from her and exploring the cottage. She followed him in silence, thinking about a way to get rid of him. She had abandoned the wizarding community right before the trials began, so she wasn’t sure of what had happened to Malfoy. For all she knew, he could have been one of the Death Eaters that fled from justice. As he took off his cloak and gloves in the sitting room, she paced close to the fireplace and grabbed the fire poker, hiding it behind her back.

He was wearing a Slytherin green turtleneck cashmere pullover and black suit trousers, his shiny dragonhide shoes clacked on the wooden floor as he inspected the bedroom and the small kitchen, where he sunk in a chair, his eyes finding hers. As he leaned back, he moved his wand and summoned a biscuit from a jar she’d bought the day before. Biting into it, he smirked at her. “Let’s chat.”

The kettle on the stove started floating to the sink, his magic moving it and filling it with water.

“Help yourself,” she quipped sarcastically, her eyes shrunken to two slits.

“Now now, no need to be a rude host.” He leaned forward and turned on the stove with an incantation, the kettle flew back on it. “I have noble intentions. Besides, if I misbehave, you can always hit me with your poker.”

Embarrassed that he had caught on to it, Hermione felt some heat on her cheeks and placed the poker against the wall, not too far from the chair she sat on next.

The wind outside howled, and the windows rattled, lashed by the increasing strength of the snowstorm.

“I thought Malfoys had a whole bunch of elves that cooked for them. Where did you learn how to make tea?” she could not help herself from asking.

He didn’t answer, for what to Hermione seemed like a long minute, then he just shrugged. “I don’t have any elves at my service, and don’t give me that disbelieving face, Granger. People change. You should know.”

Hermione’s mouth opened in astonishment, but she decided to just trust his word. “Will you tell me the reason that brought you here?” Hermione asked again, picking up a cookie as well, and biting through it.

“Potter,” he clipped. “He’s blackmailing me. Can you believe it?” His eyebrow quirked up, and with his wand waving in the air, he summoned two cups and the tea bags.

Hermione crossed her arms; it was like he was flaunting his magic in front of her, testing her reactions to it. Her eyes widened as the thought that had been scratching at the back of her mind came forward with a force that made her gasp. Harry had sent Draco to convince her to go back into the magical world. The Weasleys, her friends, and Harry had been trying to lure her back for years, but she wouldn’t have it. Unfortunately, she could believe Harry would resort to blackmailing because she was sure that Malfoy would have never accepted to help him otherwise.

“Did he get you on his mission to bring me back too? What does he have on you?” she asked with a little scoff, her fingers travelled to her hair to fidget with her locks.

He nodded while chewing on another piece of biscuit. He magically poured some tea before he spoke, “He’s got stuff that could cost me a life in Azkaban.”

“Doesn’t the Wizengamot already have all that? Have you ever paid for your actions during the war?” Hermione picked up her tea and gave Malfoy a little grin.

“Oh, I paid my dues, trust me, but this is not about me. You need to go back.” His tone was one of command, to which Hermione laughed.

“Everything is always about you, Malfoy. You are here just to save your arse.” The former witch took another sip of her tea and solemnly swore, “I’m never going back.”

The wizard leaned his elbow on the table, resting his chin on his crossed hands. “Okay, I hope you are prepared to live a life under the Imperius Curse then, because I will use it if it’s the only way to take you back.”

A sense of panic spread through Hermione's limbs. She was at his mercy. For the first time in years, she reached a hand to her side, looking for her wand. She gasped when she didn’t find it.

A sudden rumble coming from the outside shook the house and made both of them jolt up from their seats. The light bulb on the kitchen stove flickered as the whole cabin became a little darker. Draco turned to the window, his wand ready to strike, but all they could see was a white coating on the window pane.

Hermione picked up the fire poker and she quickly paced the internal perimeter of the house, turning on the lights on her way; she couldn’t see the woods surrounding the cabin anymore, everything was white.

She found Draco at the front door. He had opened it and was staring at an icy wall, wand hand on his hip and the other hand rubbing his chin and jaw. “My incantations aren’t working. We’ve been trapped by the damned snowstorm.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, fists on her hip. “Very funny, Malfoy. Make it disappear, and go along with it.” Her first thought was that he was trying to make her use accidental magic by faking to be trapped in a snowstorm.

He shook his head at her, a hint of amusement in his eyes and with some theatrics, he shot a Fire-Making Spell right into the core of the ice door. Nothing happened.

She frowned. “Can’t you apparate us out of here?”

With a crooked smirk, he approached her and looked down at her from his pointy nose. “All of a sudden magic is useful, ah?”

Her heart begun fluttering as she realized that she was trapped in a house with a Death Eater. Her feet backed her up a pace of their own volition, but he squeezed her by the arm and closed his eyes. She could see the little wrinkles of concentration at the corner of his eyes which opened back wide again, as a grimace contracted his face. “I can’t apparate us out.” He continued with a growl, “ Fucking Potter!”

Hermione gulped, the poker fell with a loud clunk while she brought her hands to her mouth. She would have killed the Boy-who-Lived. How did Harry dare try to control her life in such a manner? Lacking any other options, he had sent an old enemy to push her to use some magic, and, just to make sure to better wound her up, he had set up an icy trap for both Draco and her. She felt herself shivering in anger, and her face felt hot and sweaty.

“Granger! Breathe!” Draco shook her arm that he was still holding, and she sucked in a gulp of air, her lungs eventually expanding.

When he finally let her go, Malfoy began pacing, hands scruffing his blond locks. Stopping in front of the icy door again, he aimed his wand at it and pronounced the Bombarda Maxima incantation.

Fingers tormenting her unruly curls, Hermione ducked to dodge the shards of ice that were flying all over the place, scattered by the forceful blasting charm from Draco’s wand. She went back to the sitting room and tended to the fire. Her hands and mind were itching to research through books for a way to melt magical ice.

Without conviction, she went back to the office and sat at the computer. Surely the wizarding world didn’t upload information on the internet, but it was worth a try; at the very least she could research a Muggle way to call for help from a secluded location like that one. Unfortunately, the internet was down.

Draco tirelessly worked all day with his wand. He tried to melt the ice at every point of entrance, and he almost destroyed every single wall of the house in the process. Hermione and Draco’s interactions were limited to some snarky comments from the wizard, telling her that magic would have quickened each and every task she was performing; like tending the fire, making lunch, or cleaning the kitchen. He kept teasing her and he almost managed to get a rise out of her when he vanished her only half eaten lunch plate right in front of her eyes. Hermione's skin started prickling with magic, she could feel it building up under her skin, but she quickly locked herself in the bedroom, hands stroking the sensation away from her limbs. She had to admit that magical tricks definitely made life easier, but she refused to give in.

Throughout the day, she found herself following his movements, especially when he skillfully waved his wand around, his long pale fingers wrapping perfectly around his wand.

When dusk fell upon them, and she knew it did only by looking at the clock in the kitchen, Hermione pulled an improvised chicken roast out of the oven and asked Draco to take a break. She was freezing and decided to eat in front of the soothing flames in the sitting room.

He entered the room huffing, his hair and clothes completely dampened by sweat, snow, and ice that had melted on him. The red on his cheeks made him look younger, and she couldn’t contain a smile. The smile died immediately when he took off his pullover and t-shirt with one swift movement, placing them in front of the fireplace to dry.

He was striking. His ivory skin distended over perfectly chiselled muscles, and his shoulders were broad and thick. Her jaw fell open when she noticed the dark bruising on his ribs.

He simpered at her, sinking in the sofa next to her with a chuckle. “You should sit a little further from the fireplace, witch. Your cheeks are on fire too.”

She cleared her throat. “I was just noticing your bruises. What happened to you?”

“I suppose I could tell you since I’m going to order you to forget it after I’ve put you under the Imperius,” he stated in a condescending way while making a plate for himself. He stabbed the chicken leg with his fork, a snicker still playing on his lips. “Theo and I run an illegal duelling club in Knockturn Alley. It’s an ‘everything goes’ kind of duelling. Spells, Muggle fighting, whatever suits the moment. Two nights ago, I fought a Bulgarian wizard. He was a little larger than I am, and when I disarmed him, he just jumped me and beat me up the Muggle way. I still won, but it took some effort.”

After Hermione filled a plate with some chicken and veggies, letting the information sink in and finally understanding his mirth concerning teeth fixing, they ate their dinner in a comfortable silence. Hermione thought about Harry as she stuck her fork in her food with violent stabs. He was going to hear from her. How could he have trapped her with a criminal? And how did they find her anyways? She didn’t care. As much as it was weird, she felt safe with the sexy, conniving Slytherin.

When Draco was done eating, he placed his empty plate on the table and leaned back in the sofa. His eyes grazed over her. She could feel his gaze on every centimetre of her body, but she kept her eyes on her meal.

“Why did you leave, Granger? You were one of the best witches in our school. You loved learning about magic, I would take you to the Hogwarts library if Potter didn’t lock us here. I’m sure that would convince you to go back,” he finished snickering.

She smiled at him, turning her head sideways and moving her wild curls out of the way to better look at him. She sighed before explaining her actions, “At some point during the war, I obliviated my parents.”

Draco sat up and nodded in interest.

“The spell turned out to be irreversible, and, to this day, they don’t know who I am. They live in Australia now. That killed me and left me very disappointed with magic.” Her voice was shaky and thick, she gulped down some tears before she met his grey eyes again. “Then I almost died, multiple times during the war.”

He blinked, his cheeks slightly blushing. She knew he was thinking about the time she had almost perished on the floor of his family’s drawing room. “I’m sorry for what my aunt did to you,” he spat out in a whisper. She nodded, accepting his apology. They fell silent, his eyes grew a shade darker as they were bearing into her chestnut ones. Unable to sustain his gaze, she blinked to interrupt that stare that was full of too much grief.

“It was not your fault. That night, you did a lot to help us.” After she placed her empty plate down, she explained further, “Anyways, I felt so lost right after the war. I had nightmares every night, panic attacks every time I tried to do magic, and I was forced to use Bellatrix’s wand. What finally sent me over the edge, though, was Ron.”

He beamed at her. “Sex was so bad that he made you give up your magic? I’m not surprised.”

She couldn’t contain a chuckle. “Shut up, it’s not that. Many people that I loved died during the war. I guess I was hoping to find a shoulder to cry on, but Ron couldn't give me that. His brother died too. His family was devastated, and we just fell apart. Not even eight months after the war, I was gone. I started a Muggle University and never looked back. I’m done.” Hermione stood up and tended to the dying fire, placing three big logs on the fading embers. Staring at the reinvigorated fire, she specified, “I’m done with magic. I thought witchcraft could fix anything. Sadly, it can’t mend broken hearts.” A prickly sensation at the base of her neck told her that he was staring at her.

The feeling started to turn into static electricity as though he were bringing her inner power back to life. She had felt a similar sensation when she had received her Hogwarts letter - when she was eleven.

She heard the couch springs squeaking as he shifted on it. His following words shifted the mood back too lighter matters as well, “Is the Muggle University where you study teeth? Really, Granger? This is disgusting. I mean I can relate to the idea of putting _something_ in a girl’s mouth, but orthodoxies? That's just nasty. Yuck.”

She laughed, approaching the liquor cabinet. She extracted two glasses. She filled his tumbler with some whisky. She poured vodka for herself, walked back to the sofa, and extended her arm. The second their hands touched, she felt a shiver deep in her veins. He was still half naked and attractive. As she sat back on the couch, her voice came out a little breathy,  “It’s orthodontics. My parents were dentists. What have you been doing? No Azkaban for you?”

“No Azkaban yet, and never, if I can help it,” he said, gulping down his drink and setting it on the table. Draco moved his wand and refilled the tumbler. When he leaned back, he crossed his arms, rubbed his forearms, and shuddered a little.

Hermione realized he might have been cold. She left him in the sitting room while she went into the bedroom; she came back with a red blanket, silently scolding herself for leaving him bare like that, but she also smirked because she had been quite enjoying the view. Draco tilted his head when she sat down and handed it to him; while he took it, the wizard scoffed and transfigured it into green before wrapping himself in it. “I went back to Hogwarts.” With a glint in his eyes, he scooted closer to her. “I honestly thought that I would see you there, I was a little disappointed.”

Hermione’s brows crimped in confusion; was Draco Malfoy flirting with her? She drank her glass in a sip. He refilled it for her, tapping his wand on the rim.

“I achieved a mastery in potions under Slughorn after taking my N.E.W.T.s. He offered me a position as his assistant at Hogwarts, but I wanted to explore the real world. I ended up opening my own apothecary in Diagon Alley. Also, I’ve been managing my estate finances on the side. Unfortunately, since good old Lucius is in prison, someone has to take care of the Malfoy’s wealth.”

“Where does the duelling club fit into this busy life?” she asked playfully, nudging his shoulder with hers.

“The apothecary basement has a hidden door that leads to an underground tunnel, which brings you right to the fighting venue. It is accessible also through a magically warded manhole in Knockturn.” Draco explained, extending the blanket over her shoulders, a spirited crooked smirk tugging at his lips.

Hermione’s stomach made a somersault as she realized that he was definitely making a move on her. She leaned in and quivered at the feeling of his warm, naked body. With a deep inhale, she tried to regain some composure, but he smelled deliciously like snow and cologne. Head spinning, Hermione pursed her lips, forced her body to leave her brain do its thinking, and remembered he hadn’t really answered her question. “Two escape routes. Clever. But I meant, why do you get yourself beat up like that?”

His chest rose against her shoulder, and then he breathed out. “I’m not sure. Stress relief, I suppose.” His words came through his lips so hushed, almost as though he didn’t believe them himself.

The former witch hummed as she answered her own question, without voicing her suspicion out loud. She had the feeling that it was because duelling and bruises were a way for Draco to punish himself through pain, a way to seek redemption.

They continued talking about their common past, keeping the mood on a playful banter until somehow they fell back into more forlorn topics. Hermione opened up to him as she never did with anybody else. She talked about what she went through with her parents and the difficult process of grieving her friends - losing some of them, especially Fred, had felt like a part of her family had been destroyed. Hermione wasn't sure what it was about Draco, but he made her feel in a way that Ron never could. She had hoped Ron would be the one to put the pieces of her soul back together, but he had his own grief to process - she didn’t truly blame him much. As a contented silence stretched upon them, she found herself thinking, still cuddled up with him on the couch, that it was rather weird to be doing this with Draco because, well, he was Malfoy.

At some point during the night, Hermione closed her eyes, still resting on his chest and drifted into sleep, hugged by his warmth.

 

↜☃☃↝

 

Hermione woke up to the notes of a Christmas carol. She groaned in frustration. Draco must have tucked her in because she didn’t remember going into her bedroom.

The whole house smelled like gingerbread and sap. She curled her nose as she walked into the kitchen.

Draco was standing there, still shirtless, with a smirk on his face. The table was topped with a Christmas feast to rival Hogwarts’, or better still, Molly’s. A giant turkey served as a centrepiece, surrounded by plates full of stuffing, mashed potatoes, pots overflowing with gravy, cranberry sauce, and platters of vegetables such as carrots, turnip, parsnips. For dessert, he had baked pumpkin pie and cooked raisin pudding.

Hermione’s eyebrow shot up to her hairline in a silent question. Draco grinned and nonchalantly said, “This is nothing. Have a look at the sitting room.”

“Are you barmy?” she spat out when her feet finally took her to what used to be a warm and cosy room.

Draco had used magic to create the ultimate winter wonderland. The parlour was no more. It had been transfigured into a rather large, enchanted winter scenery. The walls had become tall snow banks, decorated with all sorts of sweets that were sprinkled in whimsical fashion; there were Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans, Crystalized Pineapple, Acid Pops, Fudge Flies, Glacial Snow Flakes, and Liquorice Wands. It looked like Draco had sacked Honeydukes.

Dancing among each other, six magical snowmen with green and silver scarves were singing Christmas carols - that’s where the music that had woken Hermione had come from.

A dollhouse, shaped like a beautiful ice castle in a corner of the room, was inhabited by a bunch of gnomes. The creatures were playing with snowballs, enacting a siege to a fortress - Hermione couldn’t contain a chuckle, thinking of the Weasleys hunting for gnomes in their backyard.

An enormous Christmas tree stood in the centre, decorated with silver ornaments; all around it extended a skating rink, that was itself surrounded by a fence of peppermint sticks that swayed at the rhythm of the snowmen’s beat.

Closer to the door, there was a hot chocolate fountain made of ice, the structure had been charmed not to melt at the contact with the warm liquid. The fireplace was still roaring and heating the room, but the snow wouldn’t melt. And it was definitely snow since the damned flakes were falling from an enchanted ceiling, similar to the one in the Great Hall, and hitting Hermione’s cheeks.

“Today is Christmas Eve, and I won’t spend it without having a tree set up. I always decorated the tree with my mother as a kid. I just love Christmas and all the sweets that come along, seasonal and not,” he snickered while he summoned his pullover.

“How d-did you-” she stuttered.

Draco chuckled. “My apothecary is close to Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. They have a magical box that is called A Wisleycle Christmas, and I purchased it before coming here. I thought about setting it up in my flat, but…” he finished with a shrug. Hermione was so impressed that George had reopened the store and created all of those amazing charms in one single product. Nostalgia tugged at her heart, but she quickly remembered the grief of losing Fred, and frowned.

Draco’s gaze had been fixed on Hermione as she observed the spectacle in front of her, she had felt his eyes on her the whole time, and when her own eyes met his face she almost broke into a laugh. He was smiling wide, a sparkle in his eyes and pink cheeks; he looked like a child that couldn’t wait to unwrap his presents.

“Let’s go ice skating!” He grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the centre of the room. Hermione was still in shock and didn’t react, she just followed him until she cautiously stepped on the smooth surface of the ice, hoping it wouldn’t break - it was George’s creation after all, and she had witnessed first hand how wrongly the twins’ experiments could go. Draco moved his wand and two sharp blades appeared under her footwear, he did the same for himself. Hermione had not skated since she was a child, since her mother taught her. She took an uncertain step and almost fell right on her arse.

“Scared, Granger?” Draco said with a playful smirk. He took off and effortlessly slid on the ice just to show off. After a couple of attempts, Hermione remembered how to skate and did a couple of loops, chin up just to spite him. Draco snickered and skidded around her a couple of times, just to stop right in front of her. She scowled at him because the air from his movements almost set her off balance.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, one eyebrow arched up.

“I hate Christmas,” she confessed, biting her lip.

Draco frowned and shook his head. “Nonsense, all this is just...magical. You can’t hate it.”

Hermione scoffed and huffed, moving a loose curl out of her eyesight. “Well, that’s the issue. Isn’t it? Christmas is the most magical time of the year.”

She turned to leave the room, tired of all that and frankly quite hungry, but she slipped on the sheer ice. Before she could smash her face on the ground, Draco caught her waist and pulled her up in his strong arms. He held her there, hands sliding to the small of her back. His grey eyes were clear and shone with a blue tinge, standing out in all the white snow surrounding them.

Draco briefly looked at her lips and let out some air before speaking, his breath tickling her nose. “Magic can’t cure grief, or bring people back, but I can certainly show you all the fantastic things it can do. This,” He pointed a finger around them - she felt cold where his hand had been - then he went on, “This is just a taste. Magic can do so much more. You might have only forgotten.”

His feelings towards magic were so real, and he was so open about it that Hermione almost agreed to go back to the wizarding world with him right then. But suddenly the fear of the war hit her, and self doubt struck her pride again.

Hermione shook her head, tired of people trying to convince her, some to force her, to change her mind. Dragging her feet, she freed herself from his embrace and began awkwardly skating back and forth in front of the fireplace. “I can’t go back. I just can’t,” she repeated the same thing over and over like a mantra. She felt panicked, cornered, and trapped. She wished she could slam the front door open and run far away from that cabin, away from Draco and all the Christmas charms he had put up. Everything was suffocatingly inviting.

With a sigh, Draco extracted a red, palm sized box from his pocket, and all the snow and the Christmas decorations, the snowmen, and the gnomes - the latter cursed and complained - flew to the box, shrinking to fit in it. The couch and the coffee table reappeared, and the room shrunk back to its original size.

“When did you start being a coward and repressing your instinct? It’s so unlike you Gryffindors.” She could feel the smirk in Draco’s words, mocking and daring. Prat.

She stopped in front of the blazing flames, hands tightly gripping the mantle that was now made of wood and not of ice.

“Are you scared of your own nature, Granger?” he pressed. “You are a witch. Accept it. Own it!” The childish mockery was gone, he was dead serious, and his words hit her hard. Why couldn’t he just shut up? She stared at the fire tongues dancing in the hearth. With a gasp she swallowed hard, trying to calm down her racing heart and the tingling sensation that was messing with her belly. She knew that feeling, she remembered exactly the first time she felt it and every time after that, stronger and deeper every chance it got to lash out from within her soul.

“Magic,” Draco named that feeling for her and she sensed his presence behind her. He wasn’t even touching her, but she knew his warmth and his magic were somewhere close. His primal power was stretching out of his body and gently lashing at her own.

“Do you feel it, Hermione?” Her name swished on his tongue like warm tea and she quivered. “Do you feel my magic?” he asked again, and she could. Oh Merlin, if she could; she was able to feel every single lap of his innate power. It was crushing her soul, penetrating her shields, and melting into her core, aching to mingle with hers.

Then, his hand was on her lower belly; she panted a moan as he finally leaned in on her, his body was hard and hot against her back.

“Do you feel your power, right there?” His hand moved down towards her core. Her head fell backwards and Draco’s other hand captured the exposed flesh of her neck. “Do you feel me?” His breath hovered on her earlobe.

Hermione couldn’t contain a whimper, as her defences crumbled and their magic auras twirled around each other, spiralling in her very centre. She arched her back and felt his arousal. A sense of euphoria took over her senses, and Hermione deliberately brushed her buttocks on his hard erection. He groaned and the sound reverberated inside of her.

“Don’t deny it, Granger,” he begged her in a low broken voice, and her brain exploded into a kaleidoscope of colours, that sizzled like fireworks. She sensed more than saw the sparks and hues in front of her shut eyes. With a sharp exhale, she let out all of her power.

The ice around the cabin shuttered in a series of zigzagging crashes, and Draco’s body skidded across the room, away from her, leaving her cold and shaky.

Heaving and gasping, Hermione almost drowned in the delight that she was experiencing all over her skin. How could she have denied herself for so long? Static electricity tingled and crackled over her body, and inside she felt like melting. She slowly turned around, and her eyes found Draco sitting on the couch. His tall muscular body was sprawled out, one hand clutching an armrest, the other gripping the back of the couch, and legs spread wide as though he had landed on it hard. His eyes, pools of quicksilver, were smouldering and fixed on her.  What she felt for the wizard before her in that very moment was an attraction just as raw as the one he had shown her in the face of magic. He had pulled her out of self pity, and she adored it.

Everything felt hot and wet, Hermione was aching from the inside out. She needed to shake off that sensation, to sooth that want, the name of which she couldn’t grasp. In two leaps, she jumped over the coffee table and onto Draco’s lap, her legs straddling him. Her hands grabbed him by the lapels and pulled him closer. Her mouth settled over his parted lips. She breathed in his fresh scent, soap and sandalwood, with an undertone of sweat; it drove her crazy. His breaths came fast and expectant, tiny waves on her mouth. Her lips were on fire. The need to put the flame out overtook her and she kissed him, her tongue immediately lapping at his lower lip.

Draco growled and stuck his own tongue out to brush on hers, his hands gripped her sides. He was like ice, cold and rough and he melted on her lips, giving her a bit of relief, but it was not enough. She needed more. Hermione cupped the sides of his neck and dragged him closer, exploring his mouth. She wanted more. Following the swaying of their magic energies dancing together, Hermione connected their cores, but the clothes kept her from getting any friction or satisfaction. She craved more. He moved his hands on her lower back and pressed her harder on his thick sex. More.

 

↜☃☃↝

 

Salazar, Granger was killing him. She was all over him and she felt so fucking good that he almost exploded in his trousers. That outburst of sex and magic was so unexpected - well, no, not unexpected, he had hoped to shag her from the second he had laid eyes on her. He had always found her attractive, despite her blood and his bloody upbringing, he had never been able to deny that he was intrigued by her. But it didn’t fucking matter, Hermione on him was just fucking great. She was grinding on his cock as though she were trying to take his trousers and briefs off with her groping. Her hands caressed his chest and stomach and dipped right to the edge of his shirt. Her delicate fingers began working on the hem, pushing it up.

Impatient, Draco helped her and yanked his shirt up and off him. Her eyes laved his torso and then they locked with his. Hermione gave him a naughty smirk, fire burning in her gorgeous, amber eyes. Her blast of magic made her hair frizzy and electrified. She was fucking glorious, and he couldn’t wait to connect his power with hers; he could savour the very moment in which he would enter her core, and melt inside her. Oh fuck, he was going to make her come so hard. He gaped at her swollen lips in awe and then pressed his hands on her back, pulling her close and immediately swearing at the contact of her pullover on his chest. She had way too much clothing on.

All of a sudden a male voice erupted out of nowhere, resonating as though it had been amplified with magic. “Hermione, I’m so sorry.”

Granger shrieked and jumped off of him. “Harry?” she coughed the fucking name out as her arse landed hard on the floor. She was staring, mouth agape, at a shimmery silvery light that was leaping and bounding around the room. The damned incorporeal twinkle finally stopped its jerking around and came to a halt before Granger, slowly turning into a stag. So that was Potter’s fucking Patronus, a stag, an annoying bouncing creature. The thing spoke again, “George’s new Snowed-In-Retreat Charm was supposed to last only four hours. He never told me that he was still testing it.” Granger scowled at the deer, her face and hair still beautifully dishevelled. The animal shook his head, displaying its antlers and said, “Anyway, I’m on my way. I hope Malfoy behaved and...sorry.”

Granger blinked and blew out some air through her plump and inviting lips. Draco let out a frustrated sighed and rubbed a hand through his hair. Her head jerked towards him as though she had forgotten he was there, eyes wide like a doe in front of a predator. He was sure his eyes were glowering. He couldn’t help it. His cock was still twitching, still hopeful for some action.

The Boy Who Couldn’t Just Fucking Die was going to meet Death soon, and Draco was going to make sure of it. He unceremoniously adjusted his tented trousers and stood. He needed to leave. With a wand flick, he summoned his cloak and reached inside of the internal pocket. His fingers closed around an intricate motif, carved into a piece of long vine wood. He had stolen it from the Snatchers on that damned day - when Hermione had been dragged to his family’s manor - and kept it ever since.

Draco had planned the whole thing out in every tiny detail. To convince her to go back, he was going to get a rise out of her, flaunting his magical skills, at first. Then, he had the intention of apparating her to Hogwarts, showing her the library and all that she had loved in the magical world. At last, he would have lured her back with her own wand. But then, he had laid eyes on her through the window, her delicate eyebrows pinched together as she stared at that weird light up Muggle box, lips pursed in the most attractive pout. And all his plans had gone to shite. He had just wanted to get to know her and, well, yes, to find out what those lips tasted like. Potter had helped with that, trapping them there, but, of course, the git had also ruined everything.

He extracted the wand from the pocket and directed his eyes to Hermione. He detected her pupils dilating as she recognised her wand. She straightened her back to inch closer to it, also getting right in front on his erection. She wanted it. He bit his lip and one side of his mouth rose slightly. She looked so gorgeous, kneeling down in front of his cock, wanton and magic still electrifying her bushy hair.

“Magic is fucking sexy on you, Granger,” he hissed out, moving the wand closer to her.

Her hands rose, and her fingers stroked the length of her wand, worshipping it and relishing in the feel of it. He could almost feel her fingers on him; he shivered and let the wood go. She caressed it up and down again; the sight made his softening cock instantly hard again. He needed out of there before he took her on the floor, giving Potter a good show.

“Merry fucking Christmas, Granger. You know where to find me.” He winked and spun on his feet.

Her lustful grin was the last thing he saw before he apparated away, but he had a feeling that he would meet the witch very soon, back in the Wizarding World.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it. Let me know what you think, please.  
> Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!


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